How to Save a Life
by SushiMushi
Summary: Jeff wanted to hate Nick so badly. He wanted to chalk up their ruined relationship to anger, and the dark-haired boy's stupidity. He wanted Nick to leave, forever. But as Jeff finally gets his wish, and a no-Nick regionals draw nearer, the blond Warbler wonders whether he really wanted his old friend gone, or if he just simply wanted him. / Niff! More info inside. PLEASE look. :D
1. I Lost a Friend

_As usual, normal italics are the characters' thoughts, _**XxX** _signifies a POV/person in focus change and a line break is a time or place shift._

_Enjoy, my flufferz! :3_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Glee or its characters. The lyrics (in italic quotes) are from "The Sound of Music", and are not mine._**

* * *

"_The first three notes just happen to be, Do-Re-Mi. Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol-La-Ti. Oh, let's see if I can make it easier."_

"To think that we let you talk us into _this,_" A thin, lanky blond boy motioned towards the area around him dejectedly.

"…_Doe, a deer, a female deer. Ray, a drop of golden sun…"_

"Over a nerf battle." An identical man sighed, finishing the previous boy's thoughts.

"…_Me, a name I call myself. Far, a long, long way to run.."._

"Ethan!" Wes snipped at the twins, Ethan and Evan. The councilman only needed to address one of the two twins for it to sink in. "Quiet." As usual, Wes commanded respect with his authoritative tone. The commanding tone helped convey exactly why he was prefect to be one of the three men who ran their club.

"Wes," One whined.

"This is boring!" The other completed.

The others in the room had stopped to glare at the twins. In unison, the boys within the dorm matched pitch and sent a harsh "Shhh!" towards the two. The siblings cringed at first, but quickly grew indifferent to the matter; there was no use even trying anymore. Matching mock pouts decorated their pale faces as they slouched against each other in defeat. The Warblers waited a few brief moments to make sure the twins had no further protests. When they were positive that there would be no more interruptions, everyone returned to their earlier positions.

"…_Sew, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow Sol…"_

Including Jeff, who sat in a tight, secluded knot at the back of Blaine's dorm room. It was movie night, and all the Warblers packed into the room to watch "The Sound of Music."; it wasn't _exactly _what the group of men had in mind to celebrate the end of another week, but it was Kurt's time to pick...and, because it was Kurt, no one would object. Anyway, even if they thought of objecting, Trent would shoot down such objections with the argument that, because they were together, that was all they needed to have fun. _Oh, how cliché. _Jeff corrected himself with a slight smile. _How Trent._

It was their little tradition, this weekly bonding time. Though, it seemed that some were less willing to "bond" than others. The solitary boy looked over towards the twins and shivered. He loved the two to death, just as he loved the res—most of the other Warblers, but they scared him shitless, to be completely honest. They had a creepy aura about them: they spoke and acted as if they were one person, and they often said some pretty crazy things. Not to mention the extreme flexibility they displayed during their often violent nerf gun battles- that kind of bending and fast twisting would make _any _man cringe. Despite their certain...creepiness, Jeff was just happy to be out of his own, empty and lonesome dorm; he was starting to forget what other humans were like, being cooped up there all alone. What, after—_No._

His brown eyes skipped over towards Kurt and Blaine, or Klaine as they were often called by—_Nuh-uh. Not going there. _Jeff's eyes flickered to the screen in an attempt to forget what he was about to think. Mentally, he slapped himself for bringing the subject up, _again._ After a severe self-scolding, he returned to the two boys to his right. A smile spread across his face as the two gently brushed lips. They _were _adorable, like the Brangelina of Dalton, minus the excessive amount of children: both beautiful, both great on (and off) stage, both perfect.

Perfect, that is, just like the rest of the Warblers. They were all so unique, so awesome and classy, it made the singer proud to "one of the guys." Jeff sighed. _I need a bromance intervention._ Yes, yes…Jeff was in love with all these Warblers.

Well, not _all _the Warblers. One would be specifically excluded from that group. At one time, maybe not. But now…now the man was just…somebody that he used to know. _Damn good song. But besides the point. Good song or not, he's still the enemy. _His foot began to tap out the light beat to Goyte's "Somebody that I Used to Know", as it always did when he broke his mental composure and thought of the one man he hated most.

"…_Tea, a drink with jam and bread. That will bring us back to Do..."_

Jeff grimaced towards the screen. It brought him back to _something_. If only that "something" was as easy as Do. If only that "something" wasn't how he came to hate Nick Duval.


	2. Step One- You Say We Need to Talk

_As usual, lone italics are the characters' thoughts, _**XxX** _signifies a POV/person in focus change and a line break is a time or place shift._

_SOO sorry this took months to write...piece of advice: avoid chemistry AT. ALL. COSTS. It ruins your life. No matter, though! Here it is, Nick's introduction into our story! :D __Sorry, may be some language in this one. _

_PS- Dashiell is pronounced Dash-ull. Have fun! :D_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Glee or its characters. Also do not own "How To Save A Life" (the titles of the chapters), that is owned by the always-amazing "The Fray"_**

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"Man, Imma text her." Nick rolled his head to the side, leaning his it on the back of a dingy recliner as he watched his friend, Dashiell.

"Hmm?" Dashiell flipped his phone in circles in his right hand. His eyes squinted in determination.

"Carrie, man." Dashiell looked up Nick, waving his phone towards his dark-haired friend. "Imma text 'er. Like, right now….right? Yeah…fo' shore."

"Oh, mhmm." Nick took another swig of his beer, tossing it aside as the last drops of his drink dripped into his mouth. "Good for you." He stood. If it wasn't for the multitude of drunken teenagers standing in the cramped room, Nick would probably have fallen over as he stumbled towards the nearest 12-pack of Coronas. It didn't take much for the boy to lose his balance. However, it was often eight or nine drinks in before Nick could call himself drunk (practice makes perfect, right?). Nevertheless, Nick was intent on being at least three sheets to the wind by the time he found his way back home…and he was only at one sheet. Snatching up the case, he wandered back to Dashiell, who still sat in deliberation over his phone. Sitting, Nick dropped his prize victoriously onto the table between him and his equally drunk friend.

"Nah, I won't…" The drunken blond sighed.

"Thash grape." Nick slurred detachedly through his bottle.

"Or…?" Dashiell looked up at Nick. "Yeah, yeah…I'll do it man."

"Okay." Nick rolled his eyes. In all honesty, Nick couldn't give a damn about Dashiell's romantic escapades. They were so shallow, and they sure as eggs is eggs weren't interesting to sit through anymore. With Dashiell, it was like watching an episode of Private Practice, with Dashiell being Dr. Amelia Shepherd: just like the rest of his life, Dashiell's relationships were sloppy, drunken, disobedient and, in general, a magnet for far too much attention. Unfortunately, Nick was Dr. Shepherd's older brother, Derek. And, as all good brothers are obligated to do, Nick had to put up with Dashiell's shit (and, 99% of the time, clean it up as well).

"Errg," The deliberating teen paused. "Man, whattaya think? Should I…hey girl, whas yo' name?" Dashiell leaned over the side of his chair, flailing his arm at a passing girl. She slapped his hand away before grumpily storming off towards her friends. Dashiell frowned, not really returning his attention as he quietly emptied his stomach onto the floor.

"Look here, Dash." Nick said as he grabbed his friend's chin. Dashiell looked drowsily at Nick, not really with the program yet. Nick slapped his face, calling Dashiell back to the here-and-now. "Now, I don't remember which girl you're talking about, or what she did, or what you didn't do, or _whatever_, but I know that by the time we leave you'll already meet five more of her. Mkay? So shut the hell up about her and get on with getting drunk…eh, drunk_-er_. Move on,_ man_."

And move on he would have, if it weren't for the army of police officers walking in the door at that moment. And, just like a dam collapsing does to a river, all the tipsy teenagers surged forward, looking for the nearest exit. And, just like the tiny fish at the base of the collapsing dam, Nick was engulfed in waves of stampeding kids.

* * *

"I don't care, Anthony!" Nick rested his head on the wall next to his door. In the adjacent room, his parents dueled. "I'm sick of it! He's caused nothing but trouble for years now!"

"Don't yell so loudly, they'll-"

"They'll what? They'll hear us? Who cares? Everyone knows by now that Nick just wants to party…just wants to waste our money on his bails. If he hears…well, good! We have other things to worry about, other kids to worry about, and the sooner he knows that we won't put up with his shit, then the sooner he may grow up!"

"Sharon, calm down. All teenagers go through this phase, and he'll grow out of it. He's just a kid now..."

"He's a god-damn loose cannon, is what he is! And I want him out before he sinks this whole damn ship!" Angry footsteps charged away from his room. Nick looked at his three dogs with a frown. Cadbury, his Irish Setter, whimpered lightly as she stared back.

"Hey, what are you looking at? If I'm a loose cannon, that makes you _at least_ a loose harpoon-gun. Guilty by association." He leaned over and kissed the red-brown dog on the top of her head. Just then, the door opened.

"Nick, we need to talk."


End file.
